


Unalaska

by LokiOfSassgaard



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Alternate Universe - His Dark Materials
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-03
Updated: 2012-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-28 21:11:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6345274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LokiOfSassgaard/pseuds/LokiOfSassgaard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Martin takes his first flight with MJN.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unalaska

Martin Crieff ran his fingers through his hair for possibly the twentieth time that morning. He stood in front of the cracked bathroom mirror, letting out a shaky breath as he attempted to make himself look as presentable as possible. Not for the first time, he found himself wondering if 'as presentable as possible' might have been easier to pull off without hair of quite such an alarming shade of ginger and his generous dusting of freckles. He'd planned on dying his hair dark before he started his new job, but the problem with starting a new job is that it often directly follows the opposite problem of a distinct lack of employment. The contents of his bank account had been steadily declining, and a few tins of soup and beans won out over hair dye. As a result, he looked utterly ridiculous.

"Relax. You look fine."

Martin looked down at Glykeria, his dæmon, who was resting on the edge of the counter near the sink, where she would occasionally ruffle her own feathers with her beak, only to smooth them all back down again. She was a Magellanic penguin, and resembled Martin in that she was slightly smaller and slimmer than what was considered average for her species.

"But I don't." Martin tried to flatten his hair again. Despite his insistence, the odds that he would embarrass himself on the first day seemed painfully high. "I look like... I look like a Muppet. What's that one? Not Bunsen?"

"Beaker?" asked Glykeria, once more ruffling and smoothing her feathers in turn. Martin pretended not to notice it.

"Yes. Exactly," he said with no small amount of disdain, although he couldn't help a small, rueful laugh.

"You'll be wearing a hat by the time the client sees us," Glykeria reminded him, looking up from smoothing her wing feathers. "The great thing about hats is that they do tend to cover your head, ginger hair and all."

"Yes, thank you," Martin said tersely, continuing to ignore his dæmon's compulsive grooming.

Returning his attention to the mirror, he made one more attempt at getting his hair into something resembling a professional-looking style before giving up completely. His fingers eventually found their way down to his necktie, fidgeting with the thing in an effort to straighten it out.

"Does this clash with my shirt?" he asks, frowning at the dark blue silk that sat against the light blue of his cheap shirt. "I can't tell."

"I think you look over-dressed. You're just going to have to change out of all this anyway." Glykeria reached out and tugged on his tie with her beak, loosening the knot and pulling everything as crooked as she could manage from her perch.

Martin brushed her away and with a heavy sigh, rid himself of the tie and unfastened the top button of his shirt. Looking back at himself in the mirror only drew forth another sigh as he tried to make the shirt look more like it fit him and less like he'd nicked it from his dad's wardrobe.

The ginger hair was not helping.

"Sideburns have to go," he declared.

"Yeah," Glykeria agreed. "Get rid of them."

 

***

 

Martin and Glykeria weren't sure what they might find at the airfield when they arrived. The interview they'd taken with the airline's CEO had been held in a small café in Fitton, where Martin had been made to pick up the cheque. As it turned out, MJN Air was run out of an old Portakabin near a patch of dirt that also doubled as a car park. Looking at the rest of the airfield though, a Portakabin made sense. The terminal wasn't so much a terminal as a squat little building with a few plastic chairs and a small concession stand with a hob. There simply wasn't any room inside the building for even a small charter airline to fit.

Martin stopped outside the door to the Portakabin, holding his dæmon tightly in his arms, one thumb gently stroking the length of her wing.

"Relax," Glykeria said softly. "We passed the interview; the job's already ours."

Martin could feel her trembling lightly under his touch, betraying the calm tone of her voice.

"That's what you said last time," Martin said.

And she had. Their previous job as an airline pilot had lasted barely more than a month, and in that entire time they only got to go on one flight. And that had been a cargo run to Bristol. In the end, it was a mutual decision (mutually decided upon by everyone at the airline except for Martin) that the job just wasn't a good for him and he was let go. Although it was never a thought he even dared to vocalise, Glykeria knew that Martin believed the reason he continually failed to be taken seriously as a pilot was because of the form she had settled as; a flightless bird that was infinitely more suited to the water.

Now, standing outside the office to MJN Air, Martin could feel his dæmon tense up in his arms, her entire body becoming stiff despite her casual tone.

"I didn't mean to settle like this," she said quietly.

"I know," Martin replied, matching her volume, "I don't blame you."

It was a lie, and they both knew it.

"You know, I could have—"

"No," Martin said stiffly, cutting her off before she could say anything else. "No. That would have been just as bad, I think. Worse, even. You know how people get."

Glykeria sighed and Martin inhaled deeply as he opened the door to the Portakabin. It was definitely not what he had expected to find as the office of a small charter airline, and not in a good way. He and Glykeria slowly took in their new work environment, the thought crossing both their minds that maybe they were mistaken about where they were meant to be. There were two rooms, the door leading to the second one closed. The main area, where Martin now stood with Glykeria still in his arms, was adorned with a crumbling particle board desk along the far wall, and by the door, a sofa that had definitely seen better days. Both looked as though the slightest amount of weight would cause them to collapse, and Martin was fairly certain that the only thing holding the threadbare sofa together at all were the myriad of stains on the fabric.

In defiance to Martin's assumptions about the integrity of the desk, perched atop it was an imposingly large albatross, grey wings tucked elegantly against her white body. It was not the dæmon Martin recognised as being Carolyn Knapp-Shappey's dæmon—hers was an intimidating black panther with eyes the colour of Baltic amber—and she regarded Martin and Glykeria with a sort of distant curiosity. Martin knew that the dæmon was watching them curiously, rather than being angry or concerned or any other host of possible emotions the same way he could tell, even from across the room, that she was female. Glykeria had settled when they were sixteen, and since then reading the subtle nuances of bird dæmons had become second nature to Martin.

What was not second nature, and indeed something that made him deeply uncomfortable, was being alone in a room with someone else's dæmon.

"Er. Sorry," he muttered, keeping his eyes fixed on the floor.

Before Martin and Glykeria could make their retreat, the door that blocked off the other half of the mobile office swung open and a man wearing a steward's uniform bounded out. Seeing Martin, he stopped and grinned widely.

"Oh! You must be the new skipper!" he said excitedly. "Brilliant! I'm Arthur, and this is Miyu."

Martin's voice caught in his throat for a moment. People didn't normally make a habit of introducing their dæmons right away, and Martin wasn't sure if he was expected to follow Arthur's example. Before he could work out the problem on his own, however, Arthur spoke again and solved it for him.

"Is she a penguin?" he asked. "That's brilliant! I've never seen someone with a penguin dæmon before. You've got the best of both worlds really, because it's like you can fly in the air and she can fly in the water."

"Er, yeah," Martin said with an appalling lack of eloquence that made even Glykeria cringe inwardly. He took a small step backwards, putting a bit of distance between himself and Arthur, half worried that he might actually try to touch Glykeria. "Sorry, this _is_ MJN Air, right?"

"Yep! This is MJN, all right. Mum's just talking to a client on the phone," Arthur said. "Should I tell her you're here?"

Martin looked round the small portable office, not seeing much of a way for Carolyn to have missed his arrival, unless her office had undergone some serious sound-proofing.

"No, that's, uhm. That's not really necessary, I don't think," said Martin. "If she's busy, I wouldn't want to bother her."

"Right-o!"

Arthur reached out to vigorously ruffle the feathers on Miyu's head. Surprisingly, the dæmon seemed to not only tolerate such rough handling, but even appeared to enjoy it, leaning into Arthur's hand. Martin couldn't help but wonder how Arthur's dæmon had managed to settle as something so magnificent, when most who were destined for a career in the service industry still had dæmons that had taken the form of dogs. But before Martin could dwell on this thought for too long, Glykeria twisted her neck to look straight up at him and clicked her beak sharply. 

"Right. Sorry," he said quietly. He put her down on the desk and let her waddle up next to Miyu, pointedly ignoring the quiet conversation that sprang up between the two birds.

"Do you know where we're flying today?" Martin asked, bringing the conversation round to something far more comfortable and infinitely less intimate. "We only just had our interview yesterday, and then we were told to be ready to take off by eleven today. Which, really, was a bit of a short notice. Not—not that I'm complaining!"

If Arthur noticed his awkward attempt to save face, he didn't let on. He just shrugged instead.

"I've no idea," he said, sounding all too excited. "I like it to be a surprise for as long as possible. Don't you?"

Once more, Martin began to feel as though he was in the wrong place, and quite possibly at the wrong time. He looked uncertainly round the Portakabin, and it was only then that he noticed the wall chart tacked up behind the desk with _Unalaska_ written on the day's date.

"Oh," he said, pointing at the chart, to which Arthur had kept his back through the entire awkward conversation. "The chart there says Unalaska. Or... is that not right?"

Arthur spun round quickly to look at the wall chart. "Does it?" he asked, his brow knitting furiously. "Where's that, I wonder? Oh! Do you think that it's where Alaska isn't? Like, how if you dig a hole in the back garden, and you make it really, really deep, eventually you'll reach China. So maybe if you dig a hole in Alaska and you go really, really deep, you'll reach Unalaska."

Martin laughed, bemused at the ramblings of his new co-worker. "I don't think you'd actually reach China. Not from Fitton, anyway," he said. "And by that logic, shouldn't China be called Unengland?"

Arthur's face fell. "Oh. Yes, I suppose you're right." His face brightened again. "So, brilliant! The mystery's back on!"

Martin laughed again, feeling his earlier resentment fading slightly. Arthur didn't seem so bad actually, and as Glykeria would often be quick to point out, it was neither Arthur nor Miyu's fault that the dæmon had settled the way she had. These things happened for reasons of their own, and despite all the research over the previous century on the matter, no-one knew or understood why.

Their laughter was quickly cut through by a voice Martin recognised, but the suddenness and sharpness of it made him jump slightly.

"Arthur! Quit frightening my new pilot and get to work!" Carolyn shouted through the closed door.

Arthur's smile didn't even fade in the slightest.

"Oh. Right," he said. He gathered Miyu up into his arms and nodded at the desk over the uncomplaining bundle of dæmon. "Mum wanted me to tell you that this is where you'll be. When you're here, I mean. Otherwise, you'll be in Gertie. But when we're here, on the ground, this is your desk. Well, when we're on the ground in Fitton, I mean. Which is where we are now. I don't think you'll have a desk when we're somewhere else, although you might. I'm not sure."

Martin nodded, rather uncertainly. "Right," he said. "Thanks. I think. Gertie?"

"That's the plane!" Arthur told him. "I don't know why she's called that. Or why she's a she, even."

Martin awkwardly settled himself behind the desk, taking the time to adjust the seat to his height and look in the drawers, were were all empty aside from a few loose M&Ms that rolled around the bottom one.

"It's a hold-over from the old nautical terms," he explained. "Before the days of aviation, pilots used to just sail ships. When they started flying aeroplanes as well, a lot of the old terms and customs were adopted from the sailors, and a ship is always female."

"Oh, right!" Arthur said agreeably. "Why's that?"

"Uh..." Not being a sailor, Martin had no idea how to answer that question. "I don't know," he admitted. "Superstition?"

As Martin tried to work out what he was supposed to be doing at that moment, the door opened again and a man in half a first officer's uniform walked in rather like he owned the place, and for a moment, Martin even thought that he might have done. Martin and Glykeria both froze when the saw the man's dæmon loping along lazily at his heels. At first glance, Martin had thought that it was a wolf. But wolf dæmons weren't common in Britain, and there was something slightly off about the dæmon's shape, as though it had been wrung through a taffy pull. But whatever it was, it definitely wasn't any sort of dog or fox that he'd ever seen before — she was doubtless something wild and predatory, though. Martin could see that much instantly. He was just on the point of asking Glykeria if she knew what the animal was, but was once again spared by Arthur's apparent lack of tact.

"She's a coyote," he piped up from the edge of the desk.

Martin's attention snapped over to Arthur, as though he wasn't sure if he should be more surprised at Arthur's apparent boundary issues in this area, or the form of the first officer's dæmon.

"That's what you were wondering, wasn't it?" asked Arthur innocently. "What Douglas' dæmon is. Don't feel bad about it. Everyone does at first. I thought she was a husky when I first saw her."

Martin turned his attention back to Douglas and his dæmon. "A husky?" he asked incredulously. There wasn't anything even remotely husky-like that Martin could see about the lanky canine. Not that he was any sort of expert on such things.

Before he could ask Arthur how he had made that mistake, or indeed get anything else out in the way of words, his co-pilot chose that moment to finally notice him. Or at least stopped ignoring him.

"Ah, good," he said, sounding more authoritative and in control with these two syllables than Martin had ever managed to sound in his entire life. "Carolyn did manage to find us a new first officer after all. And none too soon, at that."

Martin nervously chewed his lip for a moment, realising the situation he'd somehow found himself in. On the desk, Glykeria slowly moved to be closer to Martin, trying not to seem obvious about her motions. Despite everything, she still managed to make it look far more casual than Martin would ever be able to manage.

"Erm," he said, maintaining his steady lack of eloquence throughout the morning. "Captain. I mean, actually. I was hired on as ca—captain."

Douglas levelled a gaze upon Martin, the intensity of which made Martin squirm in his seat. He hoped to never again have to see something like that directed at himself, and would have been quite happy to never even have to see it again at all.

"You what?" Douglas demanded slowly, drawing each word out into its own sentence.

Martin was beginning to wonder if there had been some sort of mix-up. Or practical joke. Either seemed equally possible right then.

"I've... been hired as captain?" He hadn't meant for it to sound quite so much like a question, but he didn't know how to stop it sounding like one either.

"Have you now?" Douglas continued to glare at him for only a moment longer before stomping over to the CEO's office and opening the door. As soon as he had his back to the room, Martin picked up Glykeria and held her against his chest.

"Carolyn!" Douglas stood in the doorway with his fists on his hips. "Would you mind telling me just what the hell you think you're playing at?"

Arthur nudged Martin slightly, not showing the faintest trace of anything even close to worry. On the ground beside him, Miyu began to fidget and twitch in deference to her human's calm attitude.

"I'm sure it'll be fine," Arthur said in a tone that was probably meant to be reassuring. "They'll have their little row and then everything'll be sorted."

Martin wasn't sure he wanted to know what this sorting would involve, and he wasn't about to ask. After a few more moments, Carolyn finally finished her phone call and was ready to go at it with Douglas.

"I'm not playing at anything," she said as she hung up the phone, managing to maintain an almost frightening level of calm. "He comes cheap, so I hired him. Capitalism in action, Douglas."

"I'd imagine he must," Douglas growled through his teeth. His dæmon stood at his heels, hackles raised and teeth bared, directing every ounce of their fury and indignation at Carolyn's jaguar. Her dæmon didn't seem to have noticed that anything at all was happening above him, and lay stretched out lazily on the floor, watching his own tail flick and twitch about.

"He looks about twelve," Douglas sneered. "I didn't know they gave licenses to people so young. Or is that why he comes so cheaply?"

"Actually, I'm... I'm thirty-one," Martin said weakly, not entirely sure he even wanted them to hear him.

"Maybe you should have kept the sideburns after all," Glykeria whispered to him.

Martin glared at her and trapped her beak between his fingers. He wasn't sure if anyone else had heard what she said, but if they had all managed to forget about them being there, Martin wanted to keep it that way. He should have known that this job wasn't going to be any better than the last one. It had come far too easily and with far too many drawbacks.

"He stays, you will call him your captain, and that's final," Carolyn said sharply. "Now out of my office. Both of you."

Martin wanted to tell Douglas that he was sorry; that he'd try to find a way to fix the situation. Instead, he all but hid behind the desk as he watched Douglas and his coyote dæmon stomp out of the Portakabin.

"Here you go, Skip."

Martin jumped at the sound of Arthur's voice. 

"Is he going to be all right?" asked Martin.

"Douglas?" asked Arthur. He looked at the door for a long moment, like he was trying to see where Douglas might have gone off to. "I don't know. Did he seem any different than usual? Not that you'd probably know how he usually is, which is why you were probably asking me to begin with. Anyway, here."

Martin blinked, finally looking at the folded bundle being proffered to him. He wasn't sure where it had come from, or even when Arthur had wandered off to fetch it.

"I'm supposed to give you this," Arthur continued. "Only, I'm not sure that it will fit you. The last captain was, well..." Arthur trailed off as he handed Martin what appeared to be his uniform.

"Oh. Thank you."

He took it from Arthur and slid into the jacket, noticing almost immediately the problem Arthur had been skirting. There was no way in which the jacket wasn't too big. The sleeves covered his hands almost entirely and the rest hung off his frame in a way that would have been embarrassing had Martin not secretly expected exactly this sort of thing.

"Oh," said Arthur, doing a job at trying not to sound disappointed, and failing quite badly. "Well, it's a cargo flight, so maybe you can just wear the hat. Biscuits and cakes this week!"

"What?" asked Martin, not able to keep up with everything.

Arthur placed the offending hat on Martin's head and took a step back to take in the view. "Your hat!" he said, riding an awkward line between excitement and disappointment.

"Arthur," Martin said tiredly.

"Hmm." The disappointed tone was starting to take over. "I think..."

"It doesn't fit either, Arthur," Martin told him as he pushed the hat off his eyes.

"Right. Because David was really tall," Arthur said. "Which, now that I think about it, you're not, really. You're a bit short, actually."

"Yes, thank you," Martin said tersely, doing a job at not snapping at Arthur, and failing quite badly.

He took off the hat and jacket and set them on the desk, unable to help thinking that this was all a sign to just walk out right then and there. Find another job with another airline. One that might actually pay him, even. How he could have been so stupid to have accepted Carolyn's offer was a complete mystery to even himself.

"Stop that," Glykeria said quietly. She edged up to the side of the desk and nipped lightly at Martin's shirt.

Martin sighed and handed the uniform back to Arthur. "Well, it's just a cargo flight, like you said." This was going to be JetSetters all over again. Martin just knew it. "It shouldn't matter too much."

He'd give his notice when they returned to England, Martin decided. No point in walking out on them just before the flight. He'd be doing them a favour, really. Maybe Carolyn could find someone worth paying instead of someone she didn't have to because he was too desperate and too inexperienced. And maybe Martin could even gather some small about of karmic debt in the process.

"Well, I should go do the walk-round," Martin said resignedly, though he was eager to get outside and away from everyone else for a bit. "Come on, Ria."

He picked up his dæmon and tried as hard as he could to not look dejected as he walked out of the Portakabin. Once again, he failed quite spectacularly at his goal.

The airfield lacked any sort of proper hangar, and Martin and Glykeria found the small jet parked on the edge of the tarmac near a couple of small Cessnas and a rather sad-looking Boeing-Stearman.

"Oh, Gertie," Glykeria said, catching the call sign on the side of the jet's fuselage. "I get it."

The aeroplane also turned out to be about as far from what Martin had expected as it could possibly get and still have wings. He hardly thought she was air-worthy at all as he started his walk-round, and by the time he finished checking off all the faults he'd found, he was nearly certain of it. He was about to go back into the Portakabin to tell Carolyn of all the reasons the plane should be grounded and the flight cancelled, but was met by her outside on the tarmac instead.

"Ah. Mrs Knapp-Shappey. Ms? Ma—"

"What do you want, Martin?" Carolyn asked, interrupting him before he could ramble off any further honorifics, and sounding annoyed. No doubt at the row that had just happened inside.

"Ah. Well. We've just done the walk-round and—" Martin started, but was interrupted again.

"Good. Then we're ready to go," said Carolyn authoritatively. She unlatched the door to the plane and dropped the stairs onto the tarmac.

"Well, no, actually," Martin said as he followed her on board, careful to avoid her jaguar dæmon in the confined space of the galley. "I did notice—"

"It's supposed to be like that," Carolyn interrupted.

Martin was positive that she hadn't even the first clue as to what he was about to say. And if she did, he was beginning to doubt her ability to run an airline.

"Well, there's also the—"

"We like it that way," Carolyn's dæmon cut in.

Martin looked down at the panther, not sure if he should be more incredulous at what he had just said, or that he'd said it at all.

"Ye—Yes, but—"

"It's always been like that," Carolyn insisted.

Now he was certain that she knew what he was talking about, and just didn't want to let on.

"But—"

"Martin," Carolyn said, turning to face him. "I can assure you that for all Gertie's aesthetic faults, she flew from Newfoundland and back just last week without so much as a stammer."

"But—"

"But nothing." Carolyn folded her arms over her chest. "We are flying to Alaska in half an hour, come hell or high water." She paused slightly, looking over the state of her new pilot with an expression somewhere between concern and confusion. "Martin, what on Earth are you wearing?"

"The uniform didn't fit," Martin explained nervously. "Since it's just a cargo flight anyway, I thought—"

"Not that, you ridiculous boy," said Carolyn, giving Martin the distinct impression that he was never going to be able to finish a sentence around her. "We are flying to Alaska. Snow and polar bears and all that ghastly nonsense. Or has it always been your life-long ambition to freeze to death on the tundra?"

"Er." Martin was feeling more and more like the butt of some elaborate joke by the minute. "I mean, no-one told me about Alaska. I thought—"

Carolyn sighed heavily and shook her head. "Go see Arthur about finding yourself some suitable cold weather gear. There might be something in the hold you can wear."

"Right. OK." Martin nodded and left the plane, still clutching Glykeria tightly in his arms as he crossed what passed for an apron. "We're going to die this weekend, aren't we?" he asked grimly.

"Mmm. Most likely," Glykeria said. "Exciting, isn't it?"

"Oh, shut up," Martin grumbled.

He stepped back into the Portakabin to find Arthur fiddling with his phone. Or maybe trying to figure out how it worked. Assumptions were quickly beginning to grow dangerous around these people, and Martin didn't want to jump to any more conclusions than strictly necessary, out of a very strong instinct for self-preservation.

"Arthur, you wouldn't happen to know where there might be some spare cold weather gear?" Martin put Glykeria down onto the floor. "Your, uhm..."

"Mum?" asked Arthur helpfully.

"Yeah," Martin said. "She said you might know where something is?"

"Most people just call her by her name," Arthur said, apparently not hearing anything Martin had just said to him. "Which is Carolyn. But I just call her Mum, on account of her being my mum. But the client last week called her a... not a very nice word."

"I can't imagine why." 

"Yeah, I know! Mum's great," Arthur enthused.

Martin hadn't quite meant for Arthur to hear that, and he definitely hadn't expected that sort of response. "Er... Cold weather gear?"

"What? Oh. Right." Arthur tucked his phone into his pocket. "Why do you need cold weather gear? If it's the opposite of Alaska, then it's probably going to be really warm. Maybe we can even go to the beach."

"No, it's _in_ Alaska," Martin said, trying to keep from laughing at the absurdity of everything happening around him. "Your mum just solved that mystery for us. Which is why I need something warm to wear."

"Right," agreed Arthur. "Because Alaska's really cold."

"Apparently," said Martin.

"Well, there's a lost and found inside the terminal," offered Arthur. "We can check in there. Do you think we'll find any penguins? I mean, besides your dæmon."

"In the lost and found?" asked Martin, not really sure why they'd find penguins in there.

"No, in Alaska. It would be silly to look for penguins in the lost and found. I've always wanted to see a penguin, though. And _panserbjørne_ ," Arthur said. He looked down at Glykeria speculatively. "A penguin that wasn't a dæmon, I mean. Because I've already seen a penguin dæmon. Yours. And you know, one that wasn't in the zoo. It can't be very fun to live in a zoo. For the animals, I mean. I think living in a zoo would be brilliant! But I don't think the penguins think so, because they never look very happy to me. Yours looks happy, though."

"Yeah, I'm pretty happy," Glykeria offered as she inspected the area beneath the sofa.

"That's nice," Arthur said.

Martin rolled his eyes at the both of them. "I don't think we'll see any penguins, no," he said. "Not unless someone else has a penguin dæmon. Real penguins all live in the southern hemisphere. We might see a polar bear, though. They live in Alaska."

"Really?" asked Arthur excitedly. "Brilliant! Do you think they're be regular polar bears, or _panserbjørne_?"

Martin considered this as he opened the Portakabin door. "I'm not really sure," he admitted. "I think they're only in Svalbard. But they do go other places sometimes."

"How come so many things only live in one place?" asked Arthur. He scooped up Miyu in his arms and prepared to lead the way to the lost and found. "People live all over the place. Why don't the animals?"

"Probably because otherwise the polar bears would eat all the penguins?" Martin speculated.

"Oh. Maybe there were penguins in Alaska once, but there aren't anymore because that's what happened," Arthur said. 

"Maybe," agreed Martin. As he let Arthur go past him, Martin looked down at Glykeria as she explored the office. "Ria?" he asked. "Coming?"

Glykeria looked up at him from where she was examining a hidden area behind the sofa, and regarded the rest of the room.

"Yes," she said slowly, as though she'd only just decided then. "Where are we going?"

"To make sure I don't freeze," said Martin as he picked her up. "Weren't you listening?"

"Not really," Glykeria admitted.

"Well, to catch you up, not all of us are automatically suited for sub-zero temperatures, you know."

He followed after Arthur, making sure that the office was closed tightly.

"I've never actually been in any place with sub-zero temperatures," Glykeria pointed out. "I could be just as rubbish at them as you are. And then where would we be?"

"You'll just have to stay in my coat, then," Martin said. He lightly stroked his thumb over his dæmon's head. "Assuming I even manage to find one."

"I could stay on the plane," Glykeria said.

"I'm not leaving you on the plane."

"You could stay on the plane."

"We are not staying on the plane," Martin said wearily. "Not unless I can be absolutely assured that the plane won't completely freeze through right there on the ground." It was a possibility that both of them knew was probably quite real, having done the walk-round themselves. Still, Glykeria bit Martin's finger with enough force to remind him that they'd both agreed on what constituted acceptable trains of thought, and whatever Martin was thinking, it almost certainly didn't qualify.

"Ow!" he hissed, nearly dropping her.

"Worth it," Glykeria said all too cheerily.

They caught back up with Arthur and Miyu, finding them digging through a cardboard box behind the practically-abandoned concession stand. The contents of the box were mostly discarded hoodies and orphaned shoes, but Martin figured that maybe if he layered enough jumpers and hoodies, he might actually survive the weekend. He'd be miserable, but he sort of expected that anyway.

"Oh! There's my other shoe!" Arthur said excitedly. He handed the mangled Converse trainer over to Miyu, who put it in with a small pile of other random and discarded items.

"You lost one shoe?" Martin asked incredulously.

"Well, yeah," said Arthur, as though it was obvious. "It's not like I was gonna lose both of them, was it? Who loses both shoes?"

Martin and Glykeria exchanged sceptical looks that they both knew they'd be exchanging more than once over the course of the weekend. Martin shrugged, getting the feeling that he was going to find himself far out of his depth for most, if not all of the trip. It would probably be easier to pretend everything made sense and deal with the inevitable resulting nervous breakdown later, in the comfort and seclusion of his attic.

"No, I suppose not," he agreed cautiously, hoping it was the right answer. "Is this all? Your mum said that there might be something in the hold that could work."

"Oh. Well, what about this?" Arthur pulled a heavy anorak from the pile of hoodies and handed it to Martin. "I was just looking through the box, because I keep losing things, and thought that I might find some of them here. I guess it never occurred to me that someone might actually find all the things I've lost."

Martin wordlessly took the anorak and inspected it. It didn't seem to have any giant holes or missing sleeves or anything, which was the first positive thing to happen to Martin all day. "Should do, yes," he said. "Thank you."

He stole a glance down at the pile of items Arthur and Miyu had been collecting, finding them all rather random — everything from a stuffed rabbit with one ear to a year-old sport page from an unidentifiable newspaper. Not sure what else to say about the situation, Martin put Glykeria down onto the floor and tried on the coat. Like the captain's jacket before, it was quite big on him but in this case, quite big worked quite well. It meant that if he had to — which, knowing Alaska, he would — he could still fit an extra jumper or two underneath it.

"Yes, this should do nicely," Martin said.

"Brilliant!" Arthur said as he climbed to his feet. He picked up his pile of treasures and began to make tracks for the door. "I bet Mum's probably ready to go. Come on. I can't wait to hear your cabin address!"

"Er." Not really sure how to tell Arthur that a cabin address on cargo flights weren't entirely necessary, Martin picked up Glykeria and followed after his new co-worker, on the grounds that if Arthur knew how anything worked, it must be something like MJN's schedule. Or at least the way his mother preferred to run her company. They made their way back outside, and after a quick detour to his van to fetch his travel bag, Martin returned to the plane.

"Miyu seems quiet," Martin observed as they crossed the tarmac.

"She's a bit shy," Glykeria said.

Something about this made Martin laugh. "Yes, I suppose she would be," he said. "It would have to go somewhere, wouldn't it?"

"She's nice. They both are," Glykeria told him. "I like them. I'm almost sad we're resigning."

"Me too," Martin agreed. He sighed and shrugged. "I don't think we have much of a choice, though."

"I know."

They stepped onto the plane, finding Douglas already in the cockpit, talking quietly to his dæmon. There wasn't much room in the small space for any sort of luggage, so Martin tried to put his travel bag in the corner in a way that it would be out of the way.

"Listen, uh, Douglas," Martin started uneasily, still feeling like he ought to apologise for whatever misunderstanding he had obviously caused between Douglas and Carolyn.

"Ah, there's our brave captain, now," Douglas said to his dæmon, ignoring Martin's attempt to apologise. "We were beginning to worry that you might have got lost on your way back to the plane. Maybe spied someone else's job and decided you'd make a better fit for it."

"Douglas, I am sorry," Martin insisted. "She offered me the position of captain. I didn't know that she was offering me your job. Or anyone's job. How could I have done? And if I had, I definitely wouldn't have taken it."

"How noble of you," Douglas said, ignoring Martin's apology and turning to face the control panel. Meanwhile, his dæmon growled up at Martin and Glykeria from her spot behind Douglas' seat. Well, not Douglas' seat, actually. Just the seat he happened to be in at that moment.

"But, uhm, Douglas. You are in the captain's seat," Martin nervously pointed out. "Which is, well... My seat. Since I am still technically the captain."

"Are you really?" asked Douglas. "And here, I'd completely forgotten all about that little fact. How silly of me."

He made no effort to get up from his seat, but Martin stood behind him, waiting for something to happen anyway. Anything, really. When nothing did happen, he gave up and took the seat Douglas was supposed to be in. Putting Glykeria down on the floor behind the seat, Martin twisted his way out of the over-sized coat Arthur had found for him and managed to get it hung up on the hook behind him.

"Do you know how long the flight is scheduled to be?" Martin asked, knowing it was information he should have already had, but the morning had been so chaotic, he never even had the chance to so much as glance at the flight plan.

"Eleven hours," said Douglas. "We're flying right over the pole. Or don't you know how to read a flight plan? I suppose that is a bit advanced for some of the early classes, though."

Martin let out a breath, already too resigned to this sort of behaviour to even be properly embarrassed by the situation.

"I never saw it," he admitted. 

"No, I figured as much," Douglas said. "Considering as how I was the person to have filed it."

"Oh," Martin said dumbly. "Well. Thank you for that. And anyway, I thought I'd give you control for most of the flight, since I'm not really familiar with the craft, and all."

He hadn't actually been planning to do anything of the sort, but it sounded like it might be a good way to get on Douglas' good side, and might even make up for all the confusion. If he was very, very lucky.

At the very least, it had the possibility to make the flight a bit more bearable.

"Really?" asked Douglas incredulously. "And here, I thought you were supposed to be a qualified pilot. My mistake."

"I am," Martin insisted, struggling to maintain his calm. "I really am. It's just, you know, Planes have personality and all that. She doesn't know me yet and I don't know her."

The look on Douglas' face was one of pure, unadulterated scepticism. Martin wanted to say more to try to make himself sound more believable, but before he could think of something else potentially embarrassing to say, there was a snarl and a squeal behind them, and the entire plane lurched with the force of Douglas' dæmon pouncing at Glykeria.

"Ameretat!" Douglas snapped, pulling his dæmon off Martin's.

Martin could feel the sting from where Douglas' dæmon had touched his, just like he could feel Glykeria's fear at nearly being crushed inside those predatory jaws. At that moment, all Martin wanted to do was run.

"I wasn't going to actually bite her," Ameretat claimed with an aloofness that made Martin seethe. "Just give her a little nip."

Martin ignored Douglas and his dæmon. "Are you all right?" he asked quietly as he picked up Glykeria and put her in his lap.

Glykeria nustled up against him, burying her face in his shirt. "No," she said honestly. "I don't like her. She scares me."

Doubtless both Douglas and Ameretat heard, but Martin couldn't bring himself to care. He simply nodded at Glykeria and stroked the length of her entire body with the palm of his hand, a gesture he rarely afforded except for in times when they were both under more stress than they typically knew how to handle. It was as much for his own comfort as it was for hers.

"Martin," Douglas said, and this time it was his turn to sound uncertain. There was a long pause before he spoke again. "She doesn't usually—"

Martin didn't want to hear any of it. He didn't even care what 'it' was, but if it was coming from Douglas, it could just remain unsaid.

"Pre-flight checks, First Officer?" he said, staring straight out the windshield, though not really looking at anything.

Douglas sat in silence for a few moments. "Yes, Captain. Of course."

 

***

 

Two hours into the flight, and not much at all had changed in the cockpit. Martin hadn't looked anywhere but out at the horizon and Glykeria hadn't moved an inch from where she sat on his lap.

"Captain What?" asked Douglas suddenly, finally breaking the heavy silence between them.

"Hmm?" Martin still didn't turn to look at him.

"What do I call you?" asked Douglas. "Carolyn never did tell me your last name. Strictly speaking, she didn't even technically tell me your first. I only got that by over-hearing her talking to Lakshmana about you."

"Did you now?" asked Martin flatly.

"OK, complaining," Douglas admitted. "But don't take it personally. She complains to him about everyone."

"I see." Martin shifted to took at a slightly different point on the horizon.

"So... Captain What?" Douglas asked again.

Martin took a moment to consider his answer. "Martin's fine," he said eventually. I'll be putting in my resignation when we're back in England anyway, so there's really not much point behind it all."

"Ah."

Martin wasn't sure what he had expected, but for some reason, Douglas' lack of any sort of proper response only made him more angry.

"Was it the ground proximity warning that put you off our charming little company, or have you just never had to cope with a fully-staffed cargo flight before?" asked Douglas after a moment.

"I didn't know I was taking your job," Martin said evenly, dodging Douglas' attempt to dodge the issue of the obvious incompatibility between the two of them. "And now that I do know, it doesn't feel right to keep it. So don't worry, I'll be resigning as soon as we're back home."

There was another drawn-out pause before anything else was said. For a moment, Martin thought they were in for another several hours of awkward silence, but it seemed as though Douglas was just gearing up to say something else to throw Martin off his balance.

"Technically," said Douglas slowly, "it never was my job to begin with. Not yet, anyway. That's just how Carolyn works. The path of least pennies spent."

Martin laughed ruefully. On that basis alone, he should have put in his resignation. But Douglas had brought up a very good point, and now that the idea had made a home inside Martin's head, he couldn't seem to let go of it.

"Do they come on every flight?" he asked. "The steward, I can sort of understand, given the length of the flight, but the CEO?"

"No, not every one," said Douglas thoughtfully. "Only Arthur comes on all of them. Carolyn only comes when there's a client to impress. Or a bill-collector to avoid. Or if she's just bored. The third reason's the most common, I should think."

"So, which is it today?" asked Martin hesitantly, not completely sure he even wanted to know.

"Oh, boredom. Definitely," said Douglas. "What about a cargo hold full of jaffa cakes and custard creams suggests a client worthy of impressing? I think the fact that we took this job at all should be impressive enough, don't you?"

"Is that what you do? Fly sweets to expats in America?" asked Martin. Something about this conversation was finally starting to relax him, and he slowly began to loosen his hold on Glykeria.

"Not primarily, no," said Douglas. "We do occasionally fly people who don't work for the company. We only got offered this job at all because apparently the last guy to do this flight tried to land on a lake that wasn't as frozen as he thought it had been. We shall be landing on designated runs ways only, and avoiding all lakes, however."

"Good god," Martin exclaimed, mildly worried about what they should expect upon their landing in Alaska.

"Still considering that resignation?" asked Douglas with a sarcastic air of casualness that Martin couldn't pull off if he tried.

"More than ever," Martin said honestly. "Providing we even make it back to England in the first place."

"That's the spirit!" Douglas said.

Glykeria shuffled on Martin's lap slightly, and he looked down at her to find his dæmon staring at something off to his side. Martin looked over as well, startled to find Ameretat sitting beside him, her nose dangerously close to brushing against his arm. Martin pulled away sharply to keep from breaking the taboo and touching Douglas' dæmon as he wondered if everyone who worked for this tiny, insane airline had boundary issues when it came to this sort of thing.

"Er. Douglas," Martin said nervously.

Douglas looked over to see what had caused Martin to clam up this time, and was so startled to see how close his dæmon was to the other man that he jumped.

"Hey, you know better than that," he said, reaching out to pull her back by the scruff of her neck. "What's got into you, old girl?"

Ameretat didn't break eye contact with Glykeria, even as she was pulled backwards.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," she said to the penguin in Martin's lap. "I only wanted to give you a bit of a scare."

No matter how much of an effort Martin was putting into not letting on just how scared he was of Douglas and his coyote dæmon, he was betrayed by the way Glykeria only pushed herself closer against Martin's body. When she didn't answer, the coyote slunk back behind Douglas' seat and curled up on the floor. There was another drawn out, awkward silence in the cockpit whilst everyone tried to work out how they fit with everyone else, and several times someone tried to say something only to stop themselves at the last moment.

"Alphabetical itineraries?" Douglas offered finally.

Martin looked up at him, confused. "What?" he asked.

"Amsterdam to Boston," said Douglas by way of an explanation. "Boston to Cancun."

"Oh. Right," said Martin, catching on. The game actually sounded rather fun. Then again, it was the first time anyone had even offered to play a cockpit game with him at all. It didn't escape him that Douglas might have just been trying to distract him from everything else, but with nine hours of flight still to go, Martin welcomed the distraction. "Uhm... Cancun to Dunkirk?" he tried.

"Dunkirk to Eastbourne," Douglas volleyed back easily.

"Eastbourne to... Fff..." Martin found himself suddenly drawing a blank, and wasn't sure what to do about it. Panic seemed high on the list, but he tried to push it back down, since it was hardly something worth panicking over.

 

"Fff? Where's that?" Douglas asked with heavy sarcasm. "Can't say I've ever been to Fff. Is it nice?"

"Yes, fine. I don't know," Martin admitted, suddenly feeling a bit too indignant to manage any proper panic.

"Eastbourne to Frankfurt," Douglas said easily.

His smugness at being better than Martin at something so simple as even an alphabet game was annoying, but Martin didn't have a whole lot of time to dwell on it before the cockpit door was opened and Arthur let himself in, Miyu shuffling about awkwardly by his feet.

 

"Hey, chaps," Arthur said happily. "Mum said to stop bothering her, so I figured I'd come in here instead."

"And bother us," Douglas added lightly.

"No. Just chat." Arthur leaned in to look out the windshield at the horizon. "Are we really going to fly right over the North Pole?"

The excitement in his voice rather reminded Martin of a small child, though he wasn't entirely sure that it was a bad thing. In fact, Martin would have loved to be able to feel excited about something like that. It had been a long time since anything had really excited him without also leaving him with an impending sense of doom.

"We are," said Douglas. "Quickest route to Alaska from England, after all."

"Wow! Be careful not to hit it," Arthur warned. "Santa wouldn't like it very much."

"Yes, Arthur," Douglas agreed. "We'll be very careful not to fly into an imaginary spot on the globe."

Arthur's face fell at Douglas' words. "Are you saying Santa's imaginary?" he asked sadly.

Martin and Douglas exchanged a pair of vaguely worried glances.

"Of course he's not imaginary," Martin said, hoping that it was the right thing to say to a grown man who apparently still believed in Santa Claus. "What he means is that there's not an actual pole there."

"Oh, right," Arthur said, apparently catching on. "Because if there was, the reindeer would probably hit it, because it's always night on the North Pole. And that would be really bad."

"That's right," agreed Douglas with more sarcasm than Martin had even thought possible. "You wouldn't want the reindeer to hit the pole. Then how would all the good boys and girls get their presents?"

"That would also be bad," Arthur agreed. "How do you know all this stuff, Douglas?"

"Oh, didn't you know?" asked Douglas airily. "It's part of every pilot's training courses to learn about the airport at the North Pole."

"Really?" asked Arthur, his excitement building back up to critical levels again.

"No," said Douglas flatly. "Because there isn't one."

"Oh."

Martin was beginning to wonder how Arthur was able to cope with the constant yo-yo that seemed to be his emotional state. And then he dismissed that idea to wonder if Arthur even noticed the changes at all. Although, that seemed rather cruel, so Martin went back to his first line of mental inquiry.

"Well, I'm gonna go see what Mum's up to," Arthur decided after the silence in the cockpit drew on for a bit longer than was strictly comfortable.

"You do that," Douglas agreed.

Martin watched as Arthur left the cockpit, leaving the door ajar. Even though it was just a cargo flight, and the only other people on the plane were staff, it still left an uneasy feeling in Martin's chest. He started to unfasten his safety belt to get up, but Glykeria nervously jumped down from his lap instead, landing on the floor with a heavy thump.

"I've got it!"

The small penguin waddled across the small cockpit, giving Ameretat a wide berth, and nudged at the door with her wings and beak.

"Was that rather mean, do you think?" asked Martin as he watched his dæmon struggle with the door. "What you said to Arthur back there, I mean?"

"Oh, I think he hardly even noticed," Douglas said confidently.

Martin started to argue that point, but was sidetracked from the conversation when Glykeria managed to finally get the door closed, locking herself on the other side of it. Somehow, Martin was not even close to surprised. He stared at the door for a long moment, wondering if anything was ever going to happen that didn't make him look like a complete idiot. Somehow, he didn't seem very confident about this idea.

"Damnit, Ria," he said with a heavy sigh as he got up to let her back in.

"Sorry," Glykeria said as she re-entered the cockpit, moving quickly out of the way so Martin could close the door again. "I got it closed though!"

Douglas watched all of this with a smug expression. "Ah, penguins," he said. "Known especially for their grace and agility."

"Shut up, Douglas," Martin said as he took his seat again.

Douglas did not shut up. "Of course, these qualities generally tend to apply when the penguin is in the water. Clearly no-one has ever bothered to do a study on penguin agility at thirty-thousand feet.  
"Shut up, Douglas," Martin repeated. He got himself settled in his seat again and pulled Glykeria onto his lap. "So. Erm... Arthur?"

"Is he always like this?" asked Douglas, sparing Martin the pain of having to find a way to be tactful about it. "Yes. Was he dropped on his head as a boy? Not that I'm aware of. Frankfurt to Gdansk."

"Oh. Gdansk to... Houston," Martin said quickly.

 

***

Martin's first official landing as a licensed commercial pilot was on a small airstrip near a harbour, and with one hell of a crosswind doing everything in its power to put the small jet into said harbour. As it was, they didn't so much land in Alaska as make a sort of controlled crash, skidding almost sideways on the near-frozen tarmac.

"Jesus Christ," Douglas swore once everything was still. "I'm sure there have been worse landings in the history of aviation, but I can't seem to recall any that weren't caused by a wing falling off."

Martin would have bristled at the comment had he not been pre-occupied with making sure his heart didn't leap out of his chest. He held onto his dæmon tightly, silently swearing never to fly to Alaska, or anywhere near it, ever again.

"Well, come on," Douglas said when Martin failed to rise to his baiting. "We've a job to do, so let's get to it."

He pulled an old, red bandana from his coat pocket and gently slipped it round Ameretat's neck.

"What's that for?" Martin asked cautiously. No-one else seemed to give a damn about etiquette, so Martin figured he might as well just satisfy his curiosity and ask, and damn the hypothetical consequences.

Douglas looked up at him after making sure that the bandana was placed properly around his dæmon's neck, giving her a vaguely cartoonish appearance.

"Across the entire whole of Europe, there are exactly four people with wolf dæmons right now," Douglas said.

"You've counted?" asked Martin.

"Census information," Douglas replied. "Not exactly public, unless you know the right person."

"And I suppose you do?" Martin said. Knowing Douglas, he even knew that particular person's favourite wine.

"I do. And would you like to know how many people in Europe have coyote dæmons?"

"Less than four?" Martin guessed.

"Three less, to be exact. Something about predatory canines does rather tend to put people off. Doubly so for the only predatory canine of a specific sort in a given region."

He did seem to have a point. Martin couldn't deny the fear he felt when he looked at Douglas' dæmon, despite knowing that the taboo prevented her from actually touching him. But dæmons often would touch other dæmons, which left Martin vulnerable through Glykeria.

"And the bandana helps that?" asked Martin. Suddenly, the awkward form of his own dæmon seemed like much less of a burden. At least people weren't outright afraid of them.

"It gives off a certain air of domesticity," Douglas said.

"But we're in America," Martin pointed out. "Coyotes are probably more common here, wouldn't you think?"

"A bit more, yes," Douglas agreed. "About the same rate as badgers in England."

"Oh," Martin said flatly. "That's... not very common still."

"No. It isn't." Douglas stood to pull a mountain of cold weather gear from the locker, prompting Martin to put on the anorak Arthur had found for him. “Though, that doesn’t account for the native population. Their numbers could be different, but no-one seems to know for sure.”

Watching Douglas bundle up, Martin began to feel terribly under-prepared still, not even having any gloves or a hat.

As he zipped Glykeria into his coat so that her head stuck out just under his chin, he caught the exasperated look Douglas was throwing his way.

"Is that all you've got?" he asked. "You'll freeze."

Martin sighed deeply, growing weary of this conversation. "No-one told me about Alaska until I'd already got to the airfield," he defended.

Douglas rolled his eyes and reached into the locker. "Yes, well. Luckily, some of us like to be prepared," he said as he tossed Martin a spare woolly cap and some heavy gloves. "I'd make some suggestions for other items to invest in, but there's hardly much point in it if you're quitting tomorrow, I shouldn't think."

The door to the cockpit suddenly opened, letting Carolyn poke her head inside.

"Who's quitting tomorrow?" she asked sternly.

"Er. No-one," Martin said quickly. "Where—Where'd you hear that?"

Carolyn narrowed her eyes at the pair of them. "Well, hurry it up, then. I'd like to get indoors before the next ice age."

With that, she was gone, leaving her pilots standing in the cramped cockpit.

"Well done, _sir_ ," Douglas said flatly.

"Shut up," Martin bit back. Sighing deeply, he reached for the door and stepped out to the galley, where he found Arthur struggling to get into his own coat. Miyu sat perched up on the narrow worktop, effectively blocking the way out of the cockpit. Before Martin could suggest to Arthur the merits of moving into the cabin where he'd have more room to move about, Douglas pushed through and firmly nudged Arthur toward the cabin and out of everyone's way.

"Oh, for Heaven's sake, Arthur," he grumbled loudly. "Haven't you learned to dress yourself yet?"

As he cleared the way of any Arthurs, Ameretat nipped at Miyu's feet, causing even more chaos and fuss as dæmon and human alike struggled to avoid one another in the confined space. In between the screeching and the squealing (and the occasional amused giggle), Martin announced his intent to open the door, and when no-one objected, he did just that. The view from the stairs was almost exactly the same as the one from the cockpit, except for the slightly different direction it faced — snow and sea and an angry-looking sky. The hangar wasn't so much a hangar as it was a slightly-covered area that prevented the snow from falling on the aeroplanes. It did absolutely nothing to keep the wind out. Martin chose to ignore all of it and went round back to the hold, where several men were already waiting to unload the cargo into the back of an old pick-up truck with a badly-dented canopy over the bed. They all had bear dæmons, which were quite a lot smaller than any bear Martin had ever seen before. The dæmons sat out of the way of the men, watching curiously at the scene before them. Martin ignored them as well and quickly unlocked the hold, struggling to keep upright during a particularly unexpected gust of wind. Once the hold was open, Martin barely even thought about what he was doing and moved to help load the boxes of sweets into the truck.

"Don't crush me," Glykeria warned from inside his anorak.

"Do you want out?" asked Martin. He moved out of the way to let the men work.

Glykeria thought about this for a moment, weighing not getting crushed against the relative warmth of Martin's coat.

"Yes," she decided, favouring not getting crushed by the smallest of margins.

With a nod, Martin pulled her from his coat and sat her down on the cold concrete floor, well out of the way of the heavy feet in heavier boots.

"Oh! It's cold!" she cried.

Another gust of wind rose up and knocked her over, startling the bears that sat nearby as they watched everything.

"Oh, dear! Get the poor thing!" one of them called out.

Another of the bears, a black one with a brown face, rushed over to Glykeria and scooped her up in a large forepaw, holding the small dæmon close to her chest.

"Oh, you're warm," Glykeria said. "Can I stay with you?"

The bears all laughed as they huddled in closer to one another, sharing their warmth.

"What good's all them feathers and fluff if you can't handle a little wind?" asked another one of them playfully, this one a polar bear.

"We're from England," Glykeria told them. "We never get anything quite like this. We're lucky to see snow at all some winters."

"That's hardly a winter at all," said the bear holding Glykeria.

They all laughed and snuggled just a little bit closer still as they turned their attention back to their humans, who were making quick work of unloading the hold. Eventually, Douglas sauntered out of the plane to watch, and Arthur finally made his way out just as the hold was being locked back up.

"Darn, I missed it," he complained.

"If only they could invent a zip that was easily done up with gloves on," Douglas said with a complete lack of enthusiasm.

"I know!" Arthur agreed with enough enthusiasm to make up for the lack of it from Douglas.

Douglas rolled his eyes.

One of the Alaskans produced a clipboard from the truck and walked over to Douglas.

"Need you to sign this off, Captain," he said.

Martin rushed up to the two of them, eager to take the clipboard and sign whatever it was that needed to be signed.

"No, that's me," he said. "The captain, I mean. I'm—I'm the captain."

The man regarded Martin, then his and Douglas' dæmons before shrugging.

"Oh, yep," he said agreeably. He handed Martin the clipboard and pointed at the bottom of the load sheet. "Just there, if you will."

Having personally loaded most of the two-dozen boxes of biscuits and cakes into the truck, Martin signed off on the amounts and handed the clipboard back, half-expecting some sort of joke to transpire. The only thing that did happen was the quick dispersal of everyone now that the job had been completed. The bear that was holding Glykeria put the small bird down at Martin's feet before rushing off to seek shelter with everyone else.

"Where's Carolyn?" Martin asked as he picked up Glykeria and put her safely inside his coat.

"She mentioned something about finding the nearest bar," Douglas said. "Which I suggest we do as well if we want to know where we'll be staying tonight."

"Yeah, I'm not liking this. Can we go inside, please?" Miyu asked as she beat her wings against the rising wind, just to keep from getting blown away as Glykeria had done.

"I think it's about to snow as well," Ameretat chimed in, raising her head up to sniff at the air. "I can smell it."

Martin didn't need any more convincing. Now that he was done working up a sweat by loading boxes into the back of a truck, he was feeling the cold more than ever.

"Yeah, let's go find Carolyn," he agreed.

Before he even got the words out, Douglas and Arthur had begun following after two of the men who had been unloading the hold. Not quite sure what to make of this, Martin rushed after him.

"Douglas, I thought we were supposed to be finding Carolyn," Martin said as he caught them up.

"We are," said Douglas easily.

"By following these guys?" Martin didn't quite follow this train of thought, and he wasn't sure he wanted to.

"They look like they know where they're going," Douglas said.

Which they did, Martin had to admit, though he still didn't see the logic.

"And that'll help us find Carolyn?" he asked.

"They've just finished working in miserable conditions," Douglas pointed out as they battled against increasing winds. "And if there's one thing men like to do after working in miserable conditions, it's getting spectacularly drunk. And since we're looking for the nearest bar, it probably wouldn't hurt to follow after men who have just finished working in miserable conditions."

"Oh." When he put it like that, it did make an odd amount of sense.

As they followed after the small group, the heavy wind caught Miyu once again and sent her crashing into Arthur, who in turn knocked Martin and Glykeria to the ground.

"Arthur, why don't you try holding onto her?" Martin suggested with an air of annoyance as he struggled back to his feet. He quickly made sure Glykeria was secure before continuing on the path to the mythical bar.

"Because she's really big and I might fall over in all this wind," Arthur argued.

Before anything further could be said by anyone, Miyu careened into Ameretat, sending a blur of feathers and fur into a snowdrift.

"Arthur," Douglas growled through his teeth.

"Yeah, I think I'll hold onto her," Arthur agreed.

He picked up his dæmon and held her tightly in his arms, having to fight against the wind to keep upright. By the time they reached what turned out to indeed be a small bar, the six of them were nearly frozen to the bone. They all but fought against one another to enter the warmth of the small building, knocking snow off their shoulders and stomping loudly to get get as much off their shoes as they could manage. Martin's shoes, being cheap leather oxfords, were badly-suited for such rough weather and had filled up with ice and slush. Now that the snow had begun to melt, he found himself standing in freezing puddles that he couldn't step out of without going barefoot.

"Oh, there's Mum!" Arthur called out.

He pointed across the bar to a small table in the corner that, despite the bustling crowd, Carolyn had managed to keep to herself. Lakshmana lay under the table at her feet, idly batting at some nuts that had fallen to the floor. Occasionally, he would hit them in such a way as to send them flying across the crowded room, where they would hit some unsuspecting patron, or their dæmon.

But despite the cramped crowding, the people and their dæmons seemed to move around one another easily, having long since grown accustomed to the limited space. Many of the men had birds that perched above them in the open rafters, but there were larger dæmons as well — seals and sea lions, bears, foxes, hares. Even a few wolves sat close to their humans, wearing large, canine smiles that unnerved Martin more than they put him at ease.

They made their way over to the table where Carolyn and Lakshmana sat, careful to avoid accidentally touching any of the larger dæmons that crowded the floor. A sea lion barked loudly at several birds above it, in what appeared to be some sort of drunken game that only the dæmons themselves understood.

"Certainly a cheerful bunch," Douglas observed as he slid into one of the seats. Ameretat sat up, resting her forelegs on his lap so as to better observe the goings on around them.

"And here, sailors are always made out to be such quiet people," Carolyn said.

"I don't think anyone's told them that," Arthur said. He was covering his ears against the noise. "I think someone ought to!"

"Go ahead," said Douglas easily. "Be my guest."

"OK." Arthur started to get up, but Carolyn pulled him back down into his seat, scolding him for doing what Douglas told him to do.

While Martin listened to the other three chat back and forth, he let Glykeria wander the floor nearby, absently watching her as she inspected what she would find. Every so often, she would pick up one of the nuts that Lakshmana had tossed around and tasted them to see what sort they were. Eventually, she grew bored with the floor and asked to be let up onto the table, so she could more clearly see those around them. She stretched her short body, trying to see above the crowd as best she could. A tern in the rafters above them flapped her wings briskly, which Glykeria imitated to the best of her ability, but her rigid, flipper-like wings could only flail about uselessly.

She and the tern continued to flap at one another for a few minutes before the tern grew tired of this game and fluttered down to rest on the shoulder of her human. Glykeria's gaze followed the tern, and she watched the other dæmon until something else caught her eye up at the main bar.

"Martin! Look!" she said.

Martin turned his attention to the direction Glykeria was looking, and after a moment, he saw what she was looking at. Beside one of the rough-looking men at the bar was a dæmon in the form of a king penguin. She sat placidly next to her human, apparently half dozing despite the chaos and commotion around them. There were only a few hundred penguin dæmons registered in the whole of the United Kingdom, and very few of them were inland, so this was the first one that Martin and Glykeria had ever seen.

Martin suddenly decided he wanted a drink, so he picked up Glykeria, and carrying her under his arm, made his way up to the bar. Once there, he put Glykeria down on the bartop while he tried to attract the attention of the barman. While Martin despaired about the beer selection available, Glykeria peered over the edge of the bar and offered a friendly hullo to the king penguin on the floor beneath her.

The dæmon looked up at her curiously, but hers wasn't the only attention Martin and Glykeria had managed to attract.

"That's a fine little creature you've got there," said the man with the penguin dæmon. "Which one's yours?"

Martin looked over at the man, momentarily distracted from his stale beer with a picture of some mountain printed on the label. "Sorry?" he asked. "Which one's...?"

"Your boat, son," the man said. "You came in on one, didn't you?"

Martin puzzled over this for a few moments longer before catching up.

"Oh, no. We flew in. We only just landed about twenty minutes ago." It wasn't difficult to imagine that the majority of the traffic to the town would be from the harbour, though Martin didn't think he looked much like the sort to have anything to do with a boat.

"Oh, that was you?" asked the man with the penguin dæmon. "I saw you land out there. Hell of a wind for it. I don't know how you boys manage that." He put down his own drink and proffered his hand. "Brian Stark, captain of the Del Mar."

Martin shook Brian's hand a bit more eagerly than he'd meant to, and introduced himself. "You... saw what I came in on."

He glanced to his dæmon, realising the false pretenses under which he'd come over to Brian and his dæmon, and suddenly feeling rather bad for it.

"Sorry," Martin said. "That was really rude of us to come over and bother you like that. It's just that, well..." He wasn't sure how to finish that, but Brian didn't seem to mind either way.

"But you saw someone with another dæmon like yours," Brian filled in with a wink. "Weren't no bother at all. We know all about that sort of thing. We come up here from Idaho originally. Neither me or Nuka quite knew how to handle ourselves when we first made our way up here."

"Idaho?" asked Martin. "Sorry, I don't really know the geography of this place. That's..."

"South a ways. Down through Canada. It's landlocked, so after Nuka settled, we set out to find some place that made a little more sense for us." He reached down and let his dæmon nip at his thumb lightly. "That was almost thirty years ago, and we've never looked back."

Martin wasn't sure what to say. The idea of leaving everything behind and admitting that all the time he'd spent trying to get his pilot's license was for nothing made him feel vaguely ill. Even if Glykeria's form didn't make much sense to them, or fit into their plans as well as other forms could have, it was still all too much to give up.

"Are they common up here?" asked Martin. "Penguins, I mean."

Brian laughed. "All that science trying to explain what common sense has known for centuries. It's made people forget why a dæmon settles the way it does."

This made Martin nervous, though he wasn't sure why. He knew from school that there had been terrible experiments done nearly a century before, trying to learn more about dæmons and what made them settle the way they did, and despite these experiments, no-one ever managed to find a solid answer to anything.

"And why is that?" he asked.

Brian chuckled. "Your dæmon takes the shape that's most useful for you," he said. "Sometimes that use is obvious, and sometimes — like Nuka and me — you gotta go out and find it. If you don't know why she picked that form yet, you just haven't been looking hard enough."

Martin frowned, but said nothing. He didn't want to admit to a stranger that he didn't have the first idea why Glykeria had settled the way she had. She was his dæmon, and he loved her, even despite the form she had taken. He knew it was a shameful thing, to resent one's own dæmon, and he tried not to do it, though it was hard. Her form not only made little sense for them, but would often make their goals all the more difficult to achieve. But that wasn't anyone else's business, and Martin tensed at the thought that a complete stranger could see what he tried so hard to hide.

"Don't worry," Brian said. "You'll find it. It takes some folks longer than others, but everyone finds it eventually."

"Right," Martin said, nodding stiffly. "I should, uhm..."

He started to take his drink and Glykeria and make a hasty retreat back to the table the rest of the crew were seated at, but a loud bell rang, cutting through the din and silencing everyone at once.

"Storm's a-coming in hard, and coming in early!" called the barman. "Get to your loved ones before it's too late!"

There was a sudden commotion across the bar even greater than it had been before, as the patrons all scrambled to pull on coats and finish their drinks at once, their dæmons crying out loudly as they struggled to stay close to their humans without touching anyone by accident. The air above the tables was filled with the calls of twenty different bird species. Feathers rained down from the rafters, disintegrating into fiery Dust as they fell, and disappearing completely before they even touched ground.

Once they managed to get outside with the rest, it became apparent that storms in Alaska were no laughing matter. In the harbour, men worked quickly to secure their boats as heavy wind and snow threw everything this way and that. Martin worried that someone might fall into the harbour, but he couldn't stay and watch. It was useless to do so, and they had to get inside as quickly as they could. Lakshmana and Ameretat led the way, cutting a meagre path through the fallen snow as the group made their way to the lodging Carolyn had arranged. It wasn't far, and soon they were being ushered into a small house that served as a bed and breakfast.

Melissa, the woman whose house it was they were staying at, took their coats and made sure everything was hung up properly to dry before seeing them to a small room with a roaring fire. Arthur dropped his knapsack near the door and moved to sit at the hearth, holding his hands out to the fire to warm them, while Miyu settled down beside him and tucked her head against his side.

"What an absolute nightmare," Carolyn declared as she took one of the large wingback chairs near the fire. Once she was situated, Lakshmana leapt up into her lap, sprawling out like an over-sized housecat. He didn't even come close to fitting in her lap, but neither of them seemed to mind.

Douglas and Ameretat took the other wingback, leaving Martin and Glykeria with the sofa along the far wall. Martin didn't mind though, because the room was warm as it was, and he worried that being too close to the fire after spending so much time in the cold might have made him sick. There was a blanket folded over the back of the sofa, and Glykeria pulled it down on top of both of them, though Martin had to arrange it so it sat comfortably over them, as opposed to having just fallen down in a tangled mass.

It wasn't much longer before Melissa returned, carrying a tray with four mismatched porcelain mugs, which she passed around to everyone. They were almost brimmed with chicken soup, which Martin was certain hadn't come from a tin. Once the soup was handed out, Melissa left again, leaving them their privacy.

"Do you think we'll get snowed in?" asked Arthur, watching out the window as the sky grew increasingly dark. The look on his face said very plainly that he was hoping they would indeed find themselves snowed in.

"I should hope not," said Carolyn sharply. "I only paid for one night in this frozen hell hole. We can't afford to be stuck here."

Arthur's face fell. "Oh. How come we never get any weather like this at home?"

"Because English weather has the good sense to be practical," Carolyn told him. "And before you ask, we are not going to go out and do anything in the snow. We are going to stay inside, where it's warm, and get plenty of rest so we can fly out dark and early tomorrow morning."

"But what if we do get snowed in?" asked Arthur.

"We won't," Carolyn said firmly.

"I don't know," Douglas looked out the window as well. "It very well could. That barman sounded pretty serious."

"It wouldn't dare," said Carolyn flatly. "And if it does, I'm taking it out of your pay cheque."

Douglas glared at her. "You wouldn't dare."

"If it dares, then I dare." Carolyn seemed pleased with this plan and nodded as she stroked Lakshmana along his head in a way that rather reminded Martin of a particularly frightening Bond villain.

 

***

 

Despite Carolyn's insistence, they did find themselves snowed in, and they didn't even have to wait until the next day to realise it. After Arthur and Carolyn had gone to bed, Martin was standing by the back door, watching everything outside become buried under a heavy blanket of white. But while he was in Alaska, his mind was back in England, worrying about the next month's rent and trying to form a contingency plan for the very real possibility that he wouldn't be able to afford it. He's come close, barely scraping past by the skin of his teeth before, but he's never had to tell Mr Silvestri that he wouldn't be able to make the rent at all.

"It's not letting up then," Douglas suddenly spoke from behind him, making Martin jump so sharply it nearly hurt.

"Oh. No, it doesn't look like it, does it?" he said. "I've never seen so much snow before."

"We were in Norway last winter. I seem to recall getting snowed in there as well."

Douglas leaned closer to the window to be able to better see in the fading late afternoon light. The storm had calmed only slightly, heavy winds giving way to an even heavier snow.

"She can't really take the costs of being snowed in out of your cheque, can she?" asked Martin incredulously. "It's not like it's your fault we're stuck here."

Douglas shrugged. "Money has to come from somewhere. Mind you, she's never actually followed through on that threat, but if we get stuck somewhere long enough, she will do eventually."

Suddenly, so much of what had happened over the last two days made sense to Martin. MJN Air wasn't just struggling to stay alive, cutting whatever corners it could to pull in a meagre profit. The miniscule airline was in its death throes, threatening at any moment to collapse under its own weight. For a brief moment, Martin was tempted to tell Douglas why it would be his cheque the costs would be drawn from. Martin wasn't being spared in this brief crisis because unlike Douglas, he wasn't making any money from it. Even if Douglas did lose some of his wages to paying for their room and board, he'd still be getting something of a cheque, in theory. The best spin Martin could think to apply to his situation was more that he was taking a free trip to Middle-of-Nowhere Alaska. It wasn't the best holiday he could think of, but at least when he thought about it in those terms, it sounded almost enjoyable.

Martin laughed despite himself, drawing sudden and intense attention from Douglas and his dæmon.

"What's so funny?" Douglas asked.

Martin continued to smile, though he wasn't entirely sure why. "Oh, just wondering how many people can say they got a free trip to halfway around the world."

Douglas frowned harder. "My word, are you always this disgustingly optimistic?" he asked.

"Nope," said Martin. "I just thought I'd give it a go and see how I liked it."

"And?"

It was a long moment before Martin answered again. He continued to stare out the window at the back garden, wondering vaguely what might have been back there that he couldn't see under all the snow.

"And it's pretty," he said finally. "Like something out of a Jack London book."

Douglas looked back out the window again. "Yes, it is rather, isn't it?" he asked. "Just don't let Carolyn hear you saying that or she's likely to make you pay for this trip."

Martin couldn't help thinking that in a way, he had already funded the entire thing, and suddenly, the spell was broken. He was going to be stuck in Alaska for an unknown amount of time, and didn't even have a way of contacting anyone to let them know where he was or how long he'd be gone. He sighed a sad, disappointed little sigh and looked around for Glykeria, finding her dozing in a nearby chair.

"I suppose we should get to bed," said Martin as he made his way over to pick his dæmon up. "Carolyn was starting to sound like she might make us fly out anyway."

He sincerely wanted to hope that this wasn't true, but something about the woman gave the exact opposite impression. He tried not to think about retreated back to his room.

***

Martin awoke later that night cold and stiff, and even with Glykeria laid out on his chest, her flipper wings draped over him, he could not seem to get warm.

"Mmm. Morning," Glykeria said before yawning.

"Morning." Martin cast a glance over to the window, but the heavy curtains were drawn shut and he could only see the slightest hint of light coming in from behind them. "Or night, I guess. I suppose we should get up either way."

Glykeria twisted her neck to grab hold of the blankets and pull them further up to better cover them. "Oh, yes. We should really be doing that," she said agreeably. "Flying out bright and early today, and all."

"That's what Carolyn said. And we are still technically employed."

"Oh, yep. I'm sure they've got the runway cleared by now." Glykeria pulled the blankets over her head, effectively winning the argument.

Martin peered under the blanket at her. While she may have indeed won the argument, Martin was still able to win the war. It took every bit of willpower he had, but he finally managed to make himself pull the blankets off the both of them and get out of bed, bringing Glykeria with him.

"Hey!" she shouted, kicking and flapping her wings about furiously. "Cold!"

"How do you think I feel?" Martin rushed to pull on his trousers and find some socks from his bag. He put Glykeria down on a chest of drawers, freeing up both his hands so he could quickly dress himself.

"Like an idiot for sleeping in your pants?" said Glykeria.

"I didn't bring pyjamas," Martin said, defensively. "I wasn't expecting an overnight in the Arctic."

He pulled on a pair of thin socks and reached for the jumper he'd packed. It was old, and had been worn rather thin, making it more an ornament of design than a useful item of clothing. He put it on over the long-sleeved shirt he'd worn the day before, taking time to pull the collar through and at least make himself look like some planning had gone into what he'd packed.

The house Carolyn had arranged for their accommodation doubled as a bed and breakfast, and seemed to cater specifically to pilots and sailors. The house was a moderate size with a single storey above the ground floor, and Martin had the distinct impression that the room he and Glykeria had slept in belonged to someone else. Everything was tastefully decorated and felt comfortably like someone's home, which was precisely the problem Martin had with it. He felt like he was invading someone else's personal space, but aside from Mrs Jeffers and her dæmon, a snowshoe hare, he couldn't find anyone else in the house.

He made his way into the small sitting room to get warm by the fire, finding only Carolyn already awake, with Lakshmana lying half-asleep by her feet. Martin took advantage of the empty seat by the fire, wondering what it would take to get him to fall back to sleep.

"I thought we were flying out this morning?" he asked, realising that he had been looking forward to getting back to England more than he had realised.

The sour look on Carolyn's face suggested quite plainly that it wouldn't be happening. "Didn't you look out the window?" she asked.

"Er..." He turned to look out the window behind him to find that they were as good as snowed in. They might have been able to get outside if they wanted to, but he suddenly couldn't think of any reason why they would.

"They haven't bothered to clear the runway yet because there's another front coming in. We could be here all week," said Carolyn. She made a rude gesture in the general direction of the window and resumed her quiet sulking.

Martin didn't know what to say to that, so he said nothing. Even sitting in front of the fire, he felt unable to get warm, though he wasn't sure if it was the cold or the prospect of spending a week stuck in a small house with four people he hardly knew. He held Glykeria close to his chest, absently stroking her wing with the tips of his fingers. The longer he sat before the fire, the more he thought about the mistake he'd made in taking this job, making him wish he was still at home in his dingy little attic stiff and sore from the horrible (though, paying) job he gave up for the chance to be an airline captain.

He became so lost in his thoughts that he didn't notice Melissa enter the room until she was right in front of him, dropping a heavy crate of wood in front of the hearth. Martin jumped in his seat at the sudden clatter, startled out of his train of thought.

"Oh! Sorry, dear," Melissa said with a small, innocent laugh. "I keep forgetting you guys are all turned around on the time. You're probably still all waking up!"

She stacked the split logs in front of the fire to dry them out while her dæmon pulled at the rug in front of the fire with his teeth in an attempt to straighten it out.

"Sorry. I feel like I should be helping or something," Martin said, beginning to feel a familiar feeling of uselessness as he watched Melissa work.

Again, she smiled at him. "Don't you worry about a thing. I got this."

She quickly finished laying out the wood and got back to her feet and dusted off her hands and knees.

"Can I get you anything?" she offered. "Tea? I think we have some Earl Grey in the pantry."

Martin tried not to grimace at the thought of drinking Earl Grey, and even managed to shake his head politely. "I'm actually more of a coffee drinker," he said. "If you've got any, that is."

"Of course." She turned her smile to Carolyn. "What about you? Do you want anything?"

Carolyn was not to be swayed by a smile and pleasant hospitality, and seemed to want everyone to know it. "Yes. Find someone to clear off the runway, if you'd be so kind."

Melissa's smile didn't even flicker. "I'll see what I can do."

And with that, she was gone, her dæmon running ahead of her to the back of the house. For a moment, Martin thought he heard sarcasm in her response, but he wasn't actually sure. Not that he'd have blamed her if there was. He frowned at the display, taking a few moments to decide if he ought to say anything.

"That was a bit, uhm... harsh. Wasn't it?" he asked finally. "She's just trying to do her job."

"And I am trying to run a business," Carolyn said. "Which I can't very well do while stranded halfway around the world in the middle of nowhere."

Glykeria huffed indignantly and began grooming the feathers at her breast. "That wasn't very nice," she said quietly.

Martin shushed her with a very quiet reminder that it wouldn't be their problem for very much longer. If the airline was in such a way that long stays were funded by cutting the pilots' pay, then it wouldn't be terribly surprising at all to find that the same long overnight could very well bankrupt the company.

Melissa came back shortly after with the same smile and a newspaper, the latter of which she handed to Carolyn.

"No news on that runway, I'm afraid," she said. "There's a TV in the other room that gets the news though. We used to have it in here, but the fire melted it a little so we had to move it. That's yesterday's, but it's got forecasts for the week in it. Not as good, but it's something."

When Carolyn said nothing, Melissa turned her attention back to Martin.

"Do you take anything with your coffee, sweetie? Sugar? Milk?"

"Uh. Black. Please."

Glykeria gave a small shiver and Martin turned to get closer to the fire. By now, one side of him was starting to warm up, but his other side was still ice cold. 

"Oh, sweetie. If you're cold, I have some things upstairs that should fit you," Melissa said, stepping close to Martin and laying a hand on his shoulder.

"Uhm," was all he said.

"Come on. We'll find you something."

Martin cast a quick, sceptical glance to Glykeria before agreeing to follow Melissa upstairs.

"This is not the time for dignity," Glykeria said. "It's far too cold for that."

Martin held her beak shut between his fingers as he followed Melissa into the bedroom of what very much appeared to belong to a teenage boy.

"You're about my son's size," Melissa explained. "Let's see what he's got in here."

"Oh. Uhm. Thank you," said Martin, very conscious of the rather awkward situation he'd once more found himself in.

"Don't worry about it. You're not the first ones to get stuck here longer than they meant to." She began searching through the cluttered closet for something a bit more substantial than what Martin was already wearing. "More people than you'd think wind up wearing the same shirt two days in a row because they forgot about the weather."

She winked at him. Martin responded by turning an unattractive shade of red.

"Don't worry. I won't tell anyone." She turned back around with several thick hoodies and a heavy tartan dressing gown, which she offered to Martin. He put Glykeria down on the bed before accepting the offering of teenage fashion.

"Metallica," Glykeria read. "You might even be able to pass for her son in that."

Martin dropped the dressing gown on top of her and pulled the hoodie on over what he was already wearing, finding that either Melissa's son favoured clothes of a slightly larger size than he took, or her comparison of relative size was a bit generous.

"Just go ahead and hold on to the rest of that for now," Melissa said. "Snow's stopped, but the wind hasn't and it's supposed to be bringing more in tonight. You'll probably be here for a few more days, yet."

She began digging through a chest of drawers finding several pairs of heavy woollen socks, which she also gave to Martin.

"That's... is there a way I might be able to maybe phone my housemates to let them know we didn't crash into the sea or something?" he asked, realising that it was probably a fairly large favour to be asking.

"I like to keep the lines open in case my husband calls," said Melissa. "You can send an email if you want. That's on its own line or however that works. I don't know anything about that."

"Oh. Thank you. Please," Martin said.

He gathered up the clothes she'd lent him, making sure Glykeria was secure on top of the pile, and followed Melissa out of the room.

"I feel like I should, I don't know, apologise for, er, back there. With my boss," he said, getting the feeling that he was about to step on a lot of toes. "Only, I'm not sure if she's always like that, or if it was just a one-time thing."

Melissa shook her head, and though she gave him a light smile, it didn't quite reach her eyes this time. "Happens every winter. Mostly with fishing captains, but you pilot types get stuck here every now and then too."

Martin felt even more obliged to apologise as he was led to a small study on the first floor. The room had been done up with a nautical theme, fishing rods and bits of boat hanging from the walls.

"Look at the fringe on that," Glykeria said suddenly.

Martin turned to see what she was looking at. There was a photograph on the desk of a man and his dæmon. She was a penguin, small like Glykeria, but with a bright yellow crest of feathers on her head.

"Is this your husband?" asked Martin.

Melissa looked up from where she was booting up the computer, and old Compaq that still managed to make the one Martin had look modern by comparison.

"That's Kevin, yeah," she said. She pointed at another photograph, this one featuring a boy of maybe 17 or 18, with a sea lion for a dæmon. "And that one there's Eric. He's out on the boat with his dad."

She kept her eyes on the photograph, giving Martin the impression that were he to say anything, it would be interrupting a very tender moment.

"His dæmon just settled last year," Melissa said suddenly. "That was taken just a few weeks after. I think he was disappointed when she settled like that. He never actually said anything, but I think he'd been hoping for a penguin like his dad."

It seemed an odd thing to hope for, and Martin couldn't imagine why anyone would.

"I guess things must be different for sailors," he said.

"Oh, now that's just nonsense," Melissa said with a sort of exasperated affection. "A person's dæmon doesn't determine what they're going to do with their life. There are still people who believe that sort of thing, but it doesn't make it true."

This seemed to be in direct contradiction with what Captain Stark had said at the bar, leaving Martin once again unsure what to say.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Listen to me go," Melissa said. "This is why you don't talk about religion, politics, or dæmons."

Martin smiled what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "That's… that's all right," he said.

Melissa pulled up Internet Explorer on the computer and stepped back to give Martin some room.

"There you go, dear. Go ahead and let the others know that they can send a message home if they need to as well."

"Thank you," Martin said again.

He waited for her to leave the room before pulling up his email, which was just as empty as when he'd last checked it more than a week before. As he composed a quick message, Melissa returned to the room with a cup of coffee, which she placed on the desk.

"We're just heading off to bed now. I wouldn't recommend going outside unless you have to. I'm not sure why you'd even want to, come to think of it."

Martin didn't say that he imagined Arthur could probably come up with a dozen reasons to go outside. Instead, he nodded and watched as her dæmon leapt up into her arms with a certain lazy grace before the two of them left the room one final time. Once they were gone, Martin took a small sip of his coffee and finished off his email. He addressed it to Noel originally, but after thinking about it for a few moments, decided to send copies of it to Amber and Charlie as well, on the grounds that between the three of them, word should get round to the two whose email addresses he didn't know before anyone reported him missing to the police again.

Email sorted, he headed back downstairs with his coffee, Glykeria trailing lazily behind him. As he neared the room with the fireplace, he could hear Carolyn and Douglas talking, but it wasn't until he was just about to walk in on them that he heard the topic of their conversation. They were talking about him. Martin knew that this was the case, and not some badly-contrived sitcom cliche, because Douglas had made it very clear they were talking about him by using his name. And unless MJN had any other freshly-hired pilots called Martin, he felt that the margin for error on this one was rather low.

Martin didn't want to eavesdrop on the conversation, and he sure as hell didn't want to listen to Carolyn talk about not liking him for whatever reason, but he wasn't sure what else he could or should do. After a few moments, Glykeria solved the problem for him by walking straight out into the room and standing between Carolyn and Douglas. She looked up at them, twisting this way and that until someone noticed her, which Douglas finally did after a few moments. He cleared his throat to get Carolyn's attention and nodded down to the penguin on the floor.

"The thing about dæmons," he said, "is that if they're close enough to hear you, their human is usually close enough that they can probably hear you as well."

An awkward silence settled on the room as everyone tried to decide what to do.

"Oh, stop lurking in corners and just come out already," Carolyn said after a few moments.

Not sure what else to do, Martin kept his eyes fixed on the floor and walked out to the sofa, as Douglas had taken the chair he had been in earlier. He snatched up Glykeria and held her tightly to his chest, feeling sick with embarrassment. He wasn't even sure if he could count this as another reason on his growing list of why leaving the company was a good idea, because he was fairly certain that this was his fault. He had been unwilling to get to know anyone, really, because what had been the point if he's just going to leave again in a few days.

"Oh, for heaven's sake. Where's that television?" Carolyn asked. She got up from her seat and left the room with the purpose of someone who was the first to realise they had an excuse to do so.

"There's a computer in one of the rooms upstairs," Martin said after a while, when it had become clear that Douglas wasn't going to say anything.

"How very observant of you," Douglas said. "I suppose there's a desk as well?"

"I mean, it's got internet," said Martin. "In case you want to let your wife know that you'll be late."

It only occurred to him belatedly that Douglas' phone could probably make international calls, which only then prompted him to wonder if there was any mobile coverage where they were.

Douglas only looked confused for a moment. "Hmm? Oh, yes. That." He tugged off his gold wedding band and slid it into his pocket without another word.

"Oh. Sorry," said Martin. "I thought—"

"No, no. It was only doing its job. Not your fault," Douglas assured, though not terribly sincerely.

"Well, either way. There's still a computer upstairs if you do want to let someone know." Martin was beginning to feel stupid and decided to just shut up for a while.

"It's probably best that I don't, actually," said Douglas. "You know how these things are, especially when they're not even finished happening yet."

"Yeah. No, actually. I'm sorry to hear that, though."

Douglas shrugged, but said nothing, which was good because Martin didn't really know how to talk about this sort of thing in the first place.

 

***

 

By the time the winds had calmed down enough to go outside safely, they had been in Alaska for three days. Three days of awkward silences around the fire. Three days of cup after cup of black coffee. Three days of Arthur insisting that everyone play charades with him. Eventually, Douglas and Martin decided to try a round of Mornington Crescent to see how long it took Arthur to catch on, but after almost an hour, it too rather lost that thing that made it interesting.

Arthur no longer seemed to care about any of this the way he now cared about going outside, though. He stared out the window with his face all but pressed up against the cold glass in simple awe over the amount of snow that had fallen on the small Alaskan town.

"Can I go outside, Mum?" he asked, again and again. "Just look at all that snow. Snow like that needs to be played in. It's like a law or something."

"No, Arthur," Carolyn said, growing more and more annoyed each time he asked. "The last thing we need is you getting lost out here. We're leaving as soon as they clear the runway."

"We'll go with him," Martin offered suddenly. He wasn't sure if he'd offered because he was sick of seeing the way Arthur was overtaken with disappointment at being made to stay inside, or if it was because he was beginning to go a bit stir-crazy, but the prospect of going out sounded rather enjoyable.

"And risk one of my pilots getting lost as well?" asked Carolyn.

Martin was pretty sure he should be offended at that, though he couldn't exactly work out why.

"Oh, for heaven's sake," Douglas said, getting up from his seat. "Martin. Arthur. Fetch your coats. If I don't go look at something other than pine wood panelling soon, I fear I shall go mad."

Carolyn conceded the loss with a heavy roll of her eyes and waved her hand at the lot of them. Taking this for the implicit permission that it was, Arthur rushed off to find his shoes and his coat, having apparently forgotten that everyone had left theirs by the door.

"I'm serious," Carolyn warned. "They're supposed to have that runway cleared in a couple of hours. If we get delayed because the entire crew have gone missing, I shall do something very unenjoyable to all of you."

"Because there are so many ways in which to get lost on this tiny little speck of an island," Douglas said as he slid into his coat.

"You're taking Arthur with you," Carolyn pointed out. "He's always been an expert at doing six impossible things before breakfast."

"And how convenient for us that I'm an expert navigator," Douglas said. "So I rather suppose that evens everything out."

"Following people because they look like they know where they're going doesn't really count, though," Martin pointed out.

"Doesn't it?"

"I don't think so." Martin made sure Glykeria was settled comfortably inside his anorak, letting her head stick out underneath his chin. "An expert at following people, maybe, but not an expert at navigation."

"Semantics," Douglas complained. He knelt to slip the bandana back around Ameretat's neck, having taken it off after Melissa's dæmon stopped skittering about when they were in the same room.

"Mum, I can't find my coat!" Arthur said as he rushed back into the small room, Miyu following closely with her wings held awkwardly out from her body in a way that suggested she was trying to both keep her balance and at the same time, not knock everything down from the walls.

The other two stared at him, not bothering to to point out that they were standing right next to the very thing Arthur was looking for. He spotted it after a few moment with a cheerful 'Oh!' and bounded over to put it on.

"We should build a snowman," he suggested as he paused to work out the complexities of his zip. "A really big one that people would be able to see everywhere."

"We only have a few hours, Arthur," Martin reminded him. "Just stretching our legs before flying back to England."

"A little snowman, then."

"A snowchild, you mean?" asked Douglas.

Arthur thought about this. "Well, Skip's kind of little, and he's not—"

"All right!" Martin cut in, knowing where this was going already. He ignored Glykeria's giggling and made his way for the front door. "I'm going outside, if anyone would care to join me."

As soon as he was outside, he quickly searched his pockets for the lighter and pack of cigarettes he'd found buried in the sofa back home. He knew it was an expensive habit, and one he couldn't really afford to keep, but luckily the students he lived with seemed to always be losing nearly-empty packs in the sofa and were generous with the ones they didn't lose.

Douglas joined him outside as he lit up, closing the door against the sound of Arthur struggling with his shoes.

"You smoke?" he asked curiously.

Martin looked up and offered the nearly-empty pack to Douglas, and was slightly relieved when the offer was declined.

"Only when I've been locked inside for three days and forced to play charades with someone who's only ever seen two films."

"How ever do you afford it?" Douglas asked dryly, and though Martin knew it was meant as a joke, it still left him with an uncomfortable suspicion. Douglas didn't seem to know anything about the matter though, so Martin took a deep drag from his cigarette and tried to ignore it.

They were joined soon after by Arthur, who ran right off the porch and into the snow that was much deeper than it appeared from where they were standing. He wound up buried up to his knees with Miyu struggling to see above it at all.

Martin looked down at his shoes in despair, wondering if he mightn't be able to borrow a pair that wasn't his only black leather shoes that were at all appropriate for a pilot to wear.

"I suppose we should help him build that snowman," Douglas said. "He'll never shut up about it otherwise."

Martin continued to look down at his shoes as he finished his cigarette, wondering how this trip had managed to become so expensive. He flicked the butt end into the snow and grudgingly followed after Douglas, using the path he and Arthur had carved through it to keep from getting too much of it in his shoes. It was less than two minutes before his socks were completely soaked through.

They built the snowman, letting Arthur go off to find some pebbles and branches for the face and hands. Miyu would every so often attempt to get her massive body aloft, but the deep snow prevented her from getting a good run up and achieving any lift. Ameretat kept to Douglas' side, though when she thought no-one was looking, she would begin to pounce about in the snow after something only she seemed to be able to hear.

"Do you want down?" Martin asked Glykeria as they waited for Arthur to get back from his search.

"No," Glykeria answered with no hesitation at all. "I'd get stuck and be cold and you'd have to dig me out and we'd both be miserable."

"Well, if you're that sure about it." Martin toyed with the temptation of dropping her in the snow anyway, but he ultimately didn't think it would be worth it, so he dismissed the idea.

Arthur came bounding back, dragging two large felled tree branches in the snow. "Here we go, Skip. How's this?"

Martin looked up and frowned. "Arthur, what on Earth is that?"

"It's so he'll be really strong. They're also quite long, so he can reach things on the top shelf," Arthur explained.

"Do many snowmen have top shelves, from which they need to fetch things, Arthur?" asked Douglas. He was watching the whole scene play out with what Martin had come to recognise as a sort of bored amusement he saved just for Arthur.

"This one does." Arthur tried to drag the branches over to the snowman, but Martin stopped him.

"No, Arthur. It's supposed to be twigs. Those would never fit."

Arthur looked from the branches to the snowman. "I suppose you're right," he said. "We'd have to make a really big snowman, and I don't think we've got the time."

"No," Martin agreed.

"Right-o." Arthur left the branches and trotted off to find something else, Miyu struggling to keep up with him in the deep snow.

"You're beginning to handle him rather well, I'd say," Douglas observed. 

"Yeah, well." Martin didn't know what to follow that up with. Luckily, he didn't have to, because Arthur came back with two pine sprigs, barely six inches long.

Martin looked at them, and then looked to Douglas for help.

"Oh, no. This is all yours," Douglas said. He turned around, as though to walk away, but didn't go far.

"You might want something a little bigger," Martin suggested. "He'll look deformed with those."

"Yeah, but this way, he has lots and lots of fingers so he can pick stuff up more easily!"

"Not if he can't reach them," Martin pointed out. 

"Oh, right. OK!" And with that, Arthur was gone again.

Martin watched him bound off into the snow in a new direction before turning toward the direction of the harbour. He could only see the barest sliver of sea behind the nearby buildings, but even in the cold, the air was heavy with the smell of salt water and aquatic life.

"It's actually quite lovely out here, don't you think?" he asked no-one in particular.

"Yes, if you're a polar bear," Douglas said, pulling his coat a bit tighter around himself. Ameretat sulked near his ankles, making clear her desire to go back inside.

"I mean, I wouldn't want to live here," Martin defended. "But I do wish I'd at least brought my camera."

"Doesn't your phone have one?" asked Douglas, not even trying to feign interest in the conversation.

"My phone is the cheapest model Virgin Mobile had to offer six years ago," said Martin glumly.

"Ah, yes. I suppose it would be, wouldn't it?"

Martin looked up at him, his mood suddenly soured. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked.

Douglas looked a bit surprised at Martin's indignation. "It's just that six years ago, you must have been a student."

"Oh, yes. That." Martin didn't bother to correct him or point out again that he was old enough to not have been a student for nearly a decade. 

Before he could craft a new slight bending on the truth, an odd crunching sound, followed by a terrible scream cut through the air. Douglas and Martin both looked up at one another, and almost at the same instant, realised what the sound was.

"Did that sound like...?" Martin asked, not wanting to actually say it.

"Yes," Douglas said, and began running toward the direction of the scream.

Martin followed after, shoes and snow suddenly forgotten as they ran. The sounds of distress began to weaken and falter, which only drove them on faster. Martin knew exactly what those cries meant, which in turn could only mean one thing.

Someone had fallen through a patch of unseen ice and was being dragged further and further away from their dæmon. That dæmon, Martin was terrified to see, was Miyu. She beat her wings madly as she skittered this way and that, trying to remain close to Arthur as unseen currents pulled him deeper.

Martin and Douglas looked around wildly for something -- anything -- to aid them, but found nothing.

"That sounded like ice!" someone called, and Martin turned round to see Captain Stark rushing toward them with Nuka close behind, alternating between moving as fast as her legs could carry her and sliding in his wake on her belly.

"Someone went through. We need rope," Martin called before he got too close.

Brian didn't say anything and doubled back to the building he'd come out of. Moments later, he returned with a large coil of hemp rope and made a quick line toward Douglas and Martin.

"You can't go in there after him," Brian said, handing over the rope all the same.

Martin took off his coat, putting it and Glykeria down on the edge of the ice, and wrapped the rope round his waist.

"I'm the only one small enough to go out there," he said.

Handing the other end of the rope to Douglas, Martin made his way out onto the ice with Glykeria, quickly crawling on his stomach to keep from falling through as well. He got to the hole Arthur had made when he fell through, daring to cast a glance at Miyu. She had gone quiet, but hadn't begun to fade, so there was still time. What there wasn't was any sign of Arthur.

"I can't see him," Martin said.

Glykeria shook her head. "Martin," she said quietly.

"Yeah," he agreed. He pulled on the rope and called back to Douglas to let go of it.

"Martin, what do you think you're doing?" Douglas shouted back.

"Let go of the rope!" Martin shouted back, pulling on it again.

This time, Douglas let it go, and Martin quickly pulled it in. He passed the end to Glykeria, who took it in her beak. After a brief hesitation at the edge of the hole in the ice, she slipped into the water. She resurfaced immediately after with a sharp cry from the chill, and was gone again.

Martin watched her as she disappeared into the dark water, and when he could no longer see her, he turned his attention back to Miyu, who had gone so still and so silent that if she hadn't been a dæmon, Martin would have thought she was dead. But he still had no idea how much distance had been put between her and Arthur, and just because they were alive, it didn't mean they were safe.

There was a sudden tug on the rope so sharp that for a moment, Martin thought he was about to be pulled in as well. He knew what it meant though, and without a moment's hesitation, he reached out for Miyu.

"Sorry, Arthur," he said, taking the dæmon in his arm as he moved backwards as quickly as he could.

He had never touched another person's dæmon before, and doing it now made him want to be sick. He wanted to let go of her, to drop her on the ice and run in the other direction, but he couldn't. He had to get her off the ice and Arthur out of the water.

He felt someone grab hold of his ankles, pulling him sharply backwards, and soon he could feel that he was back on solid ground. He let go of Miyu, rolled over and lay there panting as he stared up at the cold Alaskan sky.

***

Martin knew, distantly, that they had missed the time Carolyn wanted to fly out. He knew that they had got Arthur and Miyu back to the house alive, but he didn't know what had happened after that. He vaguely remembered being sick at one point, but he didn't know when or where. Once back at the house, he and Glykeria were left alone in the room with the fireplace while everyone else did anything they could to keep their distance. Any excuse they could find was used to stay away from him, which came as no surprise at all. He sat by the fire with Glykeria in his lap, wondering if he was going to get sacked before he even had a chance to quit.

It was Douglas who finally seemed to have worked up the nerve to look at him, though he stayed near the door and kept his arms crossed over his chest.

"That's some trick you've got there," he said.

Martin didn't want to talk about it. Douglas had seen what had happened, and Martin didn't think it needed an explanation.

"Arthur?" he asked instead. "He's... Is he...?"

"He's fine," Douglas said casually. "A bit cold, but the doctor they brought in reckons that might have been what kept him and Miyu from..."

Even Douglas couldn't say it. The idea of being severed was too terrifying for most people to even talk about. The possibility that it could have happened to Arthur was more than anyone wanted to think about.

"Good," Martin said with a nod.

"You, however," Douglas said, levelling a sharp gaze on Martin, "were not in freezing cold water."

Martin sighed deeply. He hated this. Through college and flight school, he had always lied and said his dæmon was just something small that could easily hide, but it was a lie that he was never able to maintain for long enough to pass his exams.

"My mum's a witch," he said, looking away from Douglas. "We went through the rite when we were seventeen, because it was just easier than trying to carry her and all my school books."

He'd never told anyone that before, and he began to grow sick with fear at how Douglas might react to this. As it happened, he didn't seem to react at all, aside from finally entering the room and sitting down in the other chair. Ameretat stayed close to him, lying down by his feet and keeping her sharp eyes on Martin and Glykeria.

"We're flying out tomorrow, by the way," Douglas said. "Barring, of course, any further unforeseen disasters."

"Arthur is... he is fine though?" asked Martin. "He's not mad that I—"

"Martin, we're all very glad that you did," Douglas said. "Speaking of, I don't imagine anyone's been in to check on you, have they?"

Martin shook his head. "No. We've just been waiting for Carolyn to come in and fire us."

Douglas looked confused for a moment. "Why on Earth would she do something like that?" he asked.

"I did touch her son's dæmon," Martin pointed out.

"You also pulled him out of a frozen pond. Carolyn rather has more important things to worry about than etiquette at the moment."

They sat in a calm silence for a long while after that, just the crackle of the fire and the occasional muffled sounds from the other end of the house filling the space between them.

"I've seen it before," Martin said suddenly. "People who have been severed. It's terrifying. I kept thinking that it would happen to Arthur and Miyu."

Douglas didn't say anything, but the way he looked up at Martin gave away his curiosity.

"We used to work in a hospital," Martin explained. "Mostly just cleaning sick up from the floors and making beds. Not very glamorous, but it pays the bills. There's a hazing ritual some schools still do where they take one of the younger students and get them in a car, but leave their dæmon outside. Usually the poor kid has a panic while his dæmon tries to keep up, until they get the idea to change into a bird and catch up with the car, and then the game's over. It's terribly illegal, but it still happens. They do it to the younger students, because their dæmons usually haven't settled yet. But sometimes, they have, and that's when things go horribly wrong."

"Jesus Christ," Douglas muttered.

"Yeah," Martin agreed. "Most of them die of shock within a few days. I kept thinking that was going to happen to Arthur. That we'd get him out of the ice, but it wouldn't matter."

"Well, lucky for all involved, that didn't happen," Douglas said. He reached out and ran his hand over Ameretat's head, as though to reassure himself that she was still there. "What about you, then?"

Martin looked up, not following this train of thought. "What about me what?" he asked. "I already explained--"

"I meant when we get back to England," said Douglas. "Are you still going to do what it was you were planning on doing?"

Martin had to think about that. "I don't know," he admitted. "I guess it depends on, well, what Carolyn says."

"She was talking of doubling your salary, though you didn't hear that from me," Douglas said.

Martin sincerely hoped she hadn't actually said anything of the sort, because he knew very well what his salary would double to.

"I very much doubt that," he said.

"Oh, don't let her fool you," said Douglas. "She puts on a good Ebenezer Scrooge impression, but it's mostly just for show."

"If you insist," said Martin.

"I don't, actually," Douglas admitted. "But there is a first time for everything."


End file.
